Those who choose to wander

A gloomy Friday morning pulls me out of bed, calling for coffee. I look in the mirror rubbing the dark circles under my eyes, dehydrated skin and visible lines mark my face and make me feel particularly old this morning, but I tell myself not to judge.  

When I open the fridge, I realize I am out of milk—A tragedy for a daily latte consumer like me. Too lazy and too cold to take a shower, I throw on some clothes and my mustard-colored beanie — I live in that thing. I start my car, my windshield thermometer reads 42 °F. Caffein on my mind, I am driving down the main road when my trip to the store is interrupted by me spotting a decked-out sprinter van that is pulling into the coffee shop I just passed. I stop in my tracks, turn around, and take it as a sign that my coffee will be had at that coffee shop instead.

The reason for my impulsive change of plans is motivated by my obsession with van life; so far, an insatiable dream, lurking in the shadows, waiting for me to act upon.  

For the past decade, every time I see a van conversion or a *skoolie pass me by, it is as if someone is dangling a carrot in front of my face. I have had my fair share of spending time living on the road. Whether it was being crammed in an RV with 8 other people for 2 months or a cross country tour in an SUV for twelve weeks, despite facing some obvious challenges, I always found myself at home on the road. 

I pull the brakes and let out a big wishful sigh, looking up at the bluish grey sprinter van parked next to me. I do not speak to the mystery van dweller as we pass each other in the doorway of the coffee shop, but secretively in my mind I beg him to take me with.  Where might he be heading next? 

Bellied up to the narrow ledge lining the coffee shop window, I sip on my latte as I watch the van drive off, deflated at first, then motivated, knowing that the day will come when I join those who choose to wander on the road less travelled.

Stay curious! 

Love, Cass